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Career woman: new American terrorist

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

Ethan sent me a link to Smart Bitches who Love Trashy Novels who writes about an article that I just now noticed is making all the rounds of the feminist weblogs. And then some.

The article is in Forbes and the premise was that men shouldn’t marry career women (sorry, ‘career’ girls). Why? Because we’ll divorce you, cheat on you, and not take care of the house. Bad womans. Bad, bad womans.

I don’t have the time to do this one justice, especially when others have done such a good job. I’ll just point to a few:

Forbes article and counter-point

Feministe Why you should marry a doormat

BoingBoing post, which also points to several other posts.

Gawker

Shakespeare’s Sister

Pandagon

Alternative take by Slate–note, I do not have long nails, can I use yours?

Excellent article by Salon’s Rebecca Traister

Most of the reaction is outrage, but with a great deal of humor involved. When faced with the absurd, giggle. Then there’s this by Pajamas Media:

“Don’t Marry a Career Woman” says Michael Noer, putting forth a detailed—and honest—list of nine reasons not to do so. (Editor’s note: It is this career woman’s opinion that such reasons are symptoms of something else on the part of both men and women: lack of commitment and lack of gratitude for one’s blessings and/or good fortune.)

Is a complete lack of a sense of humor a prerequisite to write at Pajama Media?

Me? I love articles such as the one at Forbes, unsubstantiated statistics aside. Though I’m beyond the age suitable for most ‘barefoot, pregnant, and in the kitchen’ scenarios, I’m still a professional woman, very happily single who may actually date from time to time. Articles like this scare away the closet pricks.

It can become a test of sorts. When meeting a new man, I can look him in the eye and tell him, “I’m a career woman”. If he turns pale, flinches, or suddenly excuses himself, I know he’s a both a Forbes reader and a prick. I won’t have to figure out a graceful way to disengage, he’ll happily do it himself. Saves me from finding out he’s a Forbes reader later in the relationship.